There is the Force
by Wing Pikepaw
Summary: Who was the boy who held off the clone troopers long enough to let Bail Organa get away? His name was Zett Jukassa, and these are his final thoughts...Oneshot, Episode III spoilers!


There is no emotion; there is peace.  
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.  
There is no passion; there is serenity.  
There is no death; there is the Force

WARNING-REVENGE OF THE SITH SPOILERS!

_A/N-My first Star Wars fanfic-a historic moment, as I'm quite the fan. I have a thing for the bad guys, esp. Jango Fett and Dooku. Don't ask, as it might confuse you. I decided to write this scene because it definitely had the most impact on me in the movie-I was crying, I confess. Zett Jukassa, as some of you may know, is the boy who fought off the clones long enough for Bail Organa to get away, and I had to write about him. Just had to. I don't own Star Wars, obviously, or Zett Jukassa, (this is a disclaimer, I'm just too lazy to make a new paragraph) but I do own Master Pashij, the history prof. at the Temple, as well as all of Zett's classmates._

Zett Jukassa glanced out the window, where dusk was falling over Coruscant. The blood red light bathing the city planet seemed fitting in the troubled time of war: in fact, it was highlighting clone ships which were detaching themselves from the general flow of traffic at that very moment. The twelve-year-old Padawan watched them soar out of his vision over the Temple, catching a glimpse of the identical white helmets in each cockpit before the clones passed. Zett imagined himself up there with them for a moment, smiling at the thought of leading the troops into battle as a Knight-no, as a _Master_-, driving evil from the galaxy and returning peace once more.

"Zett? Would you care to demonstrate Form Two's Parry Eight?"

A gentle rebuke from Master Liir Pashij, an elder Twi'lek who taught Jedi history, made Zett jerk out of his daydream to look up into his teacher's expectant face. The boy felt a pang of guilt-he had let his attention wander during class. He liked Master Pashij, who taught his students by having them re-enact ancient battles in the underlevels of Coruscant, practice the lightsaber forms used by the famous Knights of old being studied, and many other things which he made up in the spur of the moment, plucking ideas seemingly from thin air. Today's lesson was about the late Count Dooku, who had been Master Pashij's close friend before he left the Order and turned to the Dark Side. It was a painful subject for Pashij to teach, and Zett regretted not paying attention.

Rising from his seat, Zett swallowed hard and said, "I apologize, Master Pashij-could you please repeat the question?"

Muffled laughter rose from his classmates. Zett felt his face grow warm as a blush spread over his features, and he bit the inside of his cheek in embarrassment. Pashij ignored their behavior and cleared his throat, looking disappointed and causing Zett's insides to shrivel up in further. "I was explaining about Form Two-the ancient Form we have discussed before, and Count Dooku specialized in. Can you show me Parry Eight of this Form?"

Determined to make up for his mistake, Zett nodded and bowed, then took up the space in the center of the room which was normally used for demonstrations. He ignited his lightsaber and saluted his teacher and audience in traditional Form Two style, with a twirl of his hand at the end of the regular downward sweep from his forehead. Then, taking up a ready stance, he brought the blade down across the left side of his body, bringing the glowing blue weapon to a stop diagonally over his shin and holding the position. Master Pashij nodded to show that the movement was correct, allowing a small smile to show that he forgave Zett. Suddenly, the Twi'lek froze, his lekku twitching as it sometimes did when Pashij was deep in thought. The smile faded from Zett's face as he, too, suddenly felt a surge in the Force-a foreign feeling, not the warm, positive energy he called upon so often in his studies as a Padawan, but a menacing threat. With a sick feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, Zett realized that he was sensing the Dark Side, something he'd only heard of before.

"Get down!" Master Pashij hissed, and instantly thirty bodies hit the floor as the wall protecting the classroom from the noise of the Temple's daily life exploded. There was a buzz as the Twi'lek Master activated his own lightsaber, an orange beacon in the smoke, and shouts of confusion and fear echoing through the outside hallway reached their ears. Whimpers of terror from the demolished classroom made Pashij turn, anxiety apparent on his dark red face. "What's happening?" cried one of the younger children, a girl named Hali Quintar who was two years younger than Zett.

"I don't know," replied her teacher, stepping cautiously outside. Suddenly, laserfire erupted from the northern end of the hallway, and Pashij moved to deflect it, his movements quick and fluid. Zett, still holding his activated lightsaber, watched in awe. He had never seen Master Pashij in action before, and now he knew why the Twi'lek was considered an expert swordsman. His use of the Force to help him stop the red beams of energy momentarily overwhelmed the dark traces in Zett's immediate range, and the Padawan took strength from it, leaping out with a majority of his classmates to help their teacher. However, they received a nasty surprise at the sight of the intruders-clone troopers, each equipped with a heavy blaster!

Another volley of fire shot down the end of the hall, and Zett watched in horror as his friend Kassk, a Mon Calamarian, fell to the ground. The boy rushed to his side and knelt, keeping his weapon behind him so it wouldn't get in his way. Kassk stared at him, unable to speak, and gave a dying gurgle before closing his eyes for the last time.

"No!" Zett screamed, unable to tear his eyes away from his dead friend. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't possible. His world was being ripped apart before his very eyes, and he was so confused. Nothing made sense.

Suddenly, Master Pashij was beside him, grabbing his elbow and dragging him back with surprising strength. "Get back! We can't hold them. We have to leave, now!" His lightsaber flashed, an orange blur, near Zett's face, deflecting the steady barrage of laser blasts. Zett staggered to his feet, still staring blankly at the dead Padawan at his feet. "Call on the Force," Pashij urged him. "It will help, and you must be prepared if we have to fight again."

Zett tried to pull himself together and took a deep breath, finding his inner calm that was the Force. Quietly, he backed away with his Master, dodging laser bolts as he went.

The class took refuge in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Pashij quickly took a head count and grimly announced that three were missing. Tearstained faces told the story of friends lost, and the Jedi Master bowed his head, remembering his students silently. The sound of another explosion caused him to hurriedly push the Padawans within the indoor forest that was part of the room. He signaled for silence and whispered loud enough for the children to hear; "The clones have apparently turned against us, for unknown reasons. I want you all to stay here until I return for you: I will attempt to regroup with the other Masters so we can either drive them back or find another way out of the Temple. Stay hidden, and if they find you, keep together and run for the secondary hangar. You can hide there for a while if they have not landed there, and wait for me or another Knight to tell you what to do. Do you understand?"

Heads nodded all around, and Master Pashij turned, his robes billowing out behind him and his lekku brushing his back as he ran swiftly towards the entrance. Zett watched him go, then turned back to the others. "I'm going after him," he announced. "Go on without me."

A young Quarren by the name of Tyyes approached, a skeptical look on his tentacled face apparent even in the gloom of the unlighted woods. "You're following him? But Zett, those troopers are out to _kill_-they have killed, killed three Padawans! You can't go back there. Master Pashij knows what he's doing-you're a Padawan too, not a Knight, and you don't even have a Master yet, and who knows what happened to the other Jedi, they could be dead and you won't find them-"

"Tyyes!" Zett cut off his babbling friend with a stern glance. "Look, I have to help. I know I have to, it's just this weird feeling I have. Trust me, I'll be fine. I'll meet you back here, okay? Besides, this probably isn't anything, maybe just a stunt by some guys dressed as the troopers." He knew that theory was lame, but it was the best he could come up with. Tyyes wasn't moving out of his way, however, so Zett ignited his lightsaber again. He was getting desperate. "Get out of my way now," he repeated, his eyes pleading. "I don't want to hurt you."

Tyyes hesitated, reading Zett's expression. His beaklike mouth clacked several times, displaying his nerves, and his four tentacles flexed as if he was sizing Zett up. The boy stood, not backing down, lightsaber activated and held in a tight grip by his side. He was a good enough fighter, not the best in his class by far, but better than most of the children here, and Tyyes knew it. Slowly, he moved off the path and out of Zett's way. As the human boy passed him, he murmured, "The Force is with you, Zett. It will guide you."

Zett glanced at him, this time with sadness depicted on his young features. "Thank you."

That was the last time he saw them. As he dashed out the south entrance, where Pashij had exited, clone troopers stormed into the room, ignoring the tranquil beauty of the scene and rushing into the forest, the best place to hide. Tears came to Zett's eyes as he realized his classmate's fate, but he ran on, not wanting to be seen. He could not honor their memories by getting killed himself, and it would be a futile attempt to take on those many troopers at once.

Zett sprinted towards the sound of battle, reaching instinctively within him for the Force. As he reached the main entrance hall, he reached out, sensing several Jedi battling there. Even as he absorbed their presence, he felt a spark of life dim and go out among their ranks. The Jedi were running out of time.

Racing to the side of Master Pashij, he leapt forwards to extinguish a whining bolt zooming towards the Twi'lek's leg. Pashij was surprised to see him. "Where are the others?" he demanded. "Did you leave them behind? What's going on?"

"I came back to help you!" Zett shouted over the noise of the battle. "As I was leaving, the clones found them. I couldn't help them." He paused to help a group of Jedi topple a statue on the ranks of the troopers, sensing the swell in the Force as they all joined in to push it over. "I'm sorry, Master Pashij...I would have tried, but you needed my help!"

The Twi'lek shook his head vehemently. "You did the right thing. The Force was with you, young Padawan."

There was no more time for talk. A dark figure passed through the ranks of the clones like a wraith, ignoring the fighting around him until it came to the head of the group. With a surge of hope, Zett recognized Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi who had killed Count Dooku, as they had been learning in class. It seemed as though that lesson had been years ago, though it had only been minutes since Master Pashij had been calmly speaking about how the Count had killed Lorian Nod, his archrival since he was a Padawan, during a meeting of the Separatists on a forest planet-Zett couldn't remember the name. Anyhow, Anakin would certainly prove an essential fighter if the Jedi were to win this battle. Several younger Knights edged forward to cover Master Skywalker and separate him from the mass of clone troopers. Zett was amazed he hadn't been blasted yet, but perhaps he had been using the Force as a shield all around him-however, in the midst of all the Jedi, Zett found it difficult with his limited abilities to identify each upraised shield of power with each person.

It happened in a heartbeat, a single blink of the eye, so fast that the average person wouldn't be able to tell if it had actually happened or not. However, each Jedi in the hallway knew what was happening the instant it did. In a single flash of his lightsaber, Master Skywalker dispatched the unprepared Jedi seeking to help him, his face twisted in a cruel, satisfied expression as the bodies hit the ground. Zett's eyes widened, not daring to believe it, but suddenly he remembered the dead eyes of Kassk, and Master Pashij's urging to call upon the Force to help accept the deaths. It had happened, Zett allowed himself to realize. For some reason, one of the deadliest fighters of the Jedi had turned against them, and there was only one option; defense.

Pashij started forward, a grim expression on his face, and Zett followed at once, but a strong Force-nudge held him where he was. The Twi'lek called over his shoulder, "No-stay there. You can't fight him."

"But-!"

"_Stay there._"

The command, firm and steady, made Zett grind his teeth with indecision and frustration. The boy reluctantly stepped back into the massed Jedi, going back-to-back with another Padawan in his lightsaber class-a girl by the name of Ry Kett. He soon lost sight of his history teacher in the thick of the fighting.

The clones and Master Skywalker fought brutally, cutting down all comers. Zett couldn't see Master Pashij, and he hoped that the Twi'lek had come to his senses and rejoined the main group. Going up against Skywalker would be suicide. The Jedi were being driven back quickly, members of their number falling like flies. Even as Zett grimly cast an eye over the losses, Ry gave a cry of pain and dropped, clearly dead. Despite his best intentions, tears dripped down Zett's face as he watched the Jedi Order dissipate before his eyes.

Suddenly, Skywalker led a charge into the ranks of the Knights. A few moments of desperate battling proved too much for the exhausted Jedi, and they scattered, fleeing sanctuary in the bowels of the Temple. Countless clone troopers headed off in pursuit, taking their time. There was nowhere to run.

Zett hid behind a column until the seemingly-endless army passed, and quickly spread out amongst the abandoned dead, searching for Master Pashij. To his sorrow, he found the Twi'lek lying facedown in a heap of robes, weapon clenched in his fist, a burn mark in his shoulder where Skywalker's lightsaber had passed through. Gently rolling his Master over, Zett steeled himself-and gasped with relief. Pashij was alive, though barely. His chest heaved weakly, and his eyes were glazed and distant.

"Master Pashij?" Zett tried, blue eyes searching the Jedi's face for some sort of recognition.

"Zett," breathed Pashij, giving a small smile. "I haven't much time-and neither do you. Get out of the Temple. That's an order, Padawan Jukassa."

"Not without you," the boy said firmly, trying and failing to pull the Twi'lek to his feet. "I don't know where to go, what to do-! You need to help me."

The Twi'lek regarded Zett with amused pride, slowly shaking his head. "No. I can't stand, let alone walk. I'm on the verge of death. You nor I cannot deny that." Without pausing, he went on. "Go to Kasyyyk and rendezvous with Master Yoda, if you can find him. That is the safest place for you, with him. Stay clear of the clones, though: no doubt they have all turned against the Republic. For what reason, I do not know."

A spasm racked his frame. The Twi'lek Master was fading fast. "Always...remember..." he whispered. "Protect democracy...serve the people. My lessons and...the Force...will always be with you." Even as he said this, his eyes glassed over completely in the icy stare of death Zett was becoming far too used to, his lekku slumped, and his head dropped. Jedi Master Liir Pashij was dead.

Zett sat there for a little while, lost in thought and grief as echoes of screams and battle reached his ears in the empty hall. Constantly, he searched for some way to halt his wayward emotions, ignorant of the tears streaming down his cheeks as he struggled not to lose himself in the pool of sadness that had been created within him. Finally, he turned his thoughts back to Master Pashij's final words, and found himself thinking back to the first lesson he could remember Pashij teaching him: the Jedi Code. The first line appeared in his mind's eye, glowing with the light of hope.

_There is no emotion; there is peace._

Zett stood, deactivating his lightsaber as he did so. Stopping briefly to bow his head over his mentor's body, the boy walked towards the landing pad, calm, but alert for signs of danger. He met no one but the corpses of the fallen Jedi, mangled and twisted by continuous blaster fire. Zett reached for the Force and grasped it firmly as he passed the bodies of the children, allowing calm to seep into his mind and quietly bear the pain as he walked onwards. He accepted the deaths, stopping here and there to say a silent good-bye. The boy knew they had gone on to a better place, and was content.

_There is no ignorance; there is knowledge._

The Force told Zett instantly why the attack had been made, helped him read the signs and think clearly. The clones answered only to one body-the Republic. The Chancellor must have given orders for the Jedi to be destroyed-so the whispers he was corrupt had been true. Master Skywalker must have joined with him, seeking greater power.

Or the power of the Dark Side.

Zett strode onwards purposefully, allowing himself to be fully open to the Force. He glanced at the walls as he passed, reading the history of the Jedi written there. He swiftly processed this information, seeing each story and letting it become part of him. A great sense of _knowing_ filled him as each ancient hero joined him and seemed to walk with him, but this feeling was not accompanied by arrogance or pride. There was only what he knew, and he accepted this fact.

_There is no passion; there is serenity._

Clone troopers behind him! Zett allowed himself a quick glance over one shoulder to confirm their presence and broke into a run, knowing that they were doing so as well. Their filtered voices rang out, breaking through his concentration.

"Cut him off!"

"Do not let him escape! He's heading for the landing platform!"

Wrenching his attention back, Zett's eyes narrowed and he put his head down, arms and legs pumping. The door to the platform was straight ahead-using the Force, Zett accessed the controls and dashed through as the door hissed open. Quickly, he took in the situation, noting with a sinking heart the clones turning away from a parked speeder in surprise, blasters leveling at his chest. And in the speeder, staring at him with wide eyes and a confused expression, was Senator Bail Organa, a known friend of the Jedi. Zett felt relief at the sight of him, and bristled at the sight of the clones. Would they try to kill him? Recalling Pashij's words of "Protect democracy", Zett flung himself forward in front of the Senator's speeder, lightsaber flashing as the troopers opened fire. He felt so in tune with the Force, feeling in fill every limb, every pore, every single part of him as his blue blade deflected laser after laser. Zett knew that there was too many of them for him to take out almost as soon as he moved, but he accepted it, remembering the last line of the Code.

_There is no death; there is the Force._

The laser that would bring about his downfall shot towards him as he moved to parry the one that would protect the Senator's engine, and Zett knew he could not block it. He felt it hit as if from far away, heard Organa yell with shock and despair, and hit the ground, letting go of control on the Force and feeling it take control instead, sweeping him off. As he died, Zett Jukassa reveled in the words that he finally, truly understood.

There is the Force.


End file.
